Archive of Our Own

Exactly one day after the best sex of her life, Regina George finds herself breaking into the Heffley residence.

Well, ‘breaking in’ was an extremely loose term for parking two streets away and signaling her not-boyfriend to sneak her through the kitchen door before his little brother notices.

If someone had told Regina five months ago that she would be throwing pebbles at a boy’s window like she was goddamn Romeo, she would’ve scoffed in their face before hurling a scathing insult back at them.

Now, though, it seemed like a perfectly logical decision to muddy up the kitten heels of her Manolo mules by trekking through the mushy, slightly overgrown grass in the Heffley’s backyard, hand in hand with their eldest son who was acting ten times more paranoid than she felt.

They creep up the staircase (“Skip the fifth step, it’s creaky.”) and make it safely to the second landing before she’s crudely shoved into a bathroom. She teeters and grabs onto the sink in an attempt to regain her balance while she can hear voices outside the door bickering. Regina thanks her lucky stars that Rodrick has the leeway to boss Greg around because whatever he says has the latter stomping back to his room and slamming the door shut.

After a few seconds, Rodrick pokes his head inside, expression sheepish. “Sorry about that,” he whispers, reaching for her hand again. 

“This is seriously beginning to feel like an ops mission,” she grumbles. 

He places a finger to his lips and motions for her to go through the door with a huge ‘NO TRESPASSING, NERDS WILL BE PROSECUTED’ sign on it.

Once they’ve climbed up the second, shorter flight of stairs, Rodrick lets out a sigh of relief. Regina still hasn't gotten over the fact that he sleeps in the freaking attic, much like she still hadn’t gotten over the fact that she was willing to go through all these lengths just to spend time with him.

He had called her last night, informing her that he was, as suspected, grounded for the shit he pulled in Church yesterday, and that he was to come straight home after school for the next two weeks, with the possibility of extensions if he landed himself in detention within that window.

Regina thought it sounded like a miserable existence, but if Rodrick shared that sentiment, it sure didn’t show with the way he was the metaphorical equivalent of a puppy weaving in between her ankles, yipping and jumping for her affection. He plops on the edge of his bed and pulls her onto his lap, arms snaking around her waist.

“Hey,” he says, nosing at her neck in contentment.

“Hey yourself,” she giggles, kicking off her shoes to get more comfortable. His room’s a whole lot neater than she remembers it to be, drumsticks in one heap on his desk, no magazines or books littering any surfaces, floor suspiciously clothes-free. “Did you clean up around here?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” he replies, before planting a quick peck on her cheek that has Regina blushing. “It’s not like I have anything better to do, I’m not even allowed to play my drums.”

“You poor thing,” she rolls her eyes.

“I really am, you know. The only time my mom remotely acknowledges my attention without scolding me is when it’s related to you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she was still majorly pissed, but wanted to know how that dinner last night with your parents went,” he explains. 

“And what did you say?” She tips his chin up so she can see him better. Her gorgeous boy with his perfect nosebridge, perfect upturned eyes, perfect bone structure, and perfect red lips that part slightly before he gulps.

“Uhhh, I, uh, told her it went well,” his eyes flit between her eyes and her mouth, face only about an inch away from her own.  

“Only well?” She muses. “That’s not how I remember it.”

“It went great. Better than great, actually! It blew my mind,” he rushes.

Regina smiles to herself. This was too easy. 

He’s changed from his school clothes into grey sweatpants and a loose, ratty Löded Diper hoodie. He looks so cozy and soft and she suddenly feels itchy in her starched pink Oxford. 

She begins unbuttoning her top and Rodrick stares slack-jawed. “Um, I- Regina. We can’t- Greg is… Greg’s downstairs.” 

“This blouse feels stuffy,” Regina complains. “Can I borrow your hoodie?” She blinks at him innocently, like she’s not half indecent in just her mini skirt and sheer lace lingerie.

Rodrick’s Adam’s Apple bobs before he nods and removes his hoodie in that attractive way guys do, pulling it off by the back of its neckline. 

She’s only mildly disappointed when she sees he’s wearing a shirt underneath, but it’s quickly overcome by deep rooted satisfaction once she catches a hint of the chain around his neck. Her vision’s suddenly obscured when he unceremoniously plops the pullover over her and shoves it down her head, completely messing up her hair. He cackles at her expression.

“Rodrick!”

He throws his head back in laughter, jostling her as he goes and they end up in a pile with her on top of him, hastily pulling her arms through the sleeves so she can unstick her hair from her gloss-coated lips. “Ugh, you’re such a child.”

She glares at the boy underneath her and tries to keep her expression unkind, but he’s staring at her in That way that makes the palms all tingly and gives her butterflies. His hands are warm as they slide up her torso, resting somewhere near her ribcage, thumbs skimming the underwire of her bra.

“You like it,” he teases. 

She has no clever response to that, so she leans down and captures his lips in a lingering kiss instead.

Rodrick hums happily, rolling them over and pressing her into the mattress. His sheets mercifully smell like laundry soap and boy and she feels like she’s being thawed, warming steadily all over, relishing in the feel of him pressed up against her. His tongue sweeps into her mouth and he tastes like cinnamon altoids, and it’s addictive, so much so that Regina finds it impossible to pull away, even when her lungs burn for more air.

He kisses down her neck, hands pushing up the material of his own hoodie to expose her chest, licking her cleavage, and leaving marks all over the tops of her breasts until her nipples are hard without even being touched. 

Regina lets a moan slip and he’s back kissing her, tugging on her lower lip with his teeth. “We can’t make much noise,” he whispers. “Greg will hear and we’re screwed if he tells on us.”

She’s panting steadily, lightheaded from sensory intake. She’s trying to note down everything all at once; the feel of his back muscles rippling underneath his shirt, the low gravelly sound of his voice, the texture of his hair in between her fingers. “At least that way someone will be doing the screwing,” she half jokes, but the comment sets him off anyway and his lips move against hers like distance is something to be fought.

They kiss until she’s sure her lips are going to be swollen for days and she clings onto him needily. She hates having to pull back, but her chest aches and she needs air. Just one breath, she tells herself, so she can lean in again, feel his mouth on hers once more. She eases away enough to breathe, drawing it deep into her lungs. Even then, Regina doesn’t really leave him. Her forehead stays pressed to Rodrick’s, her exhale warm against his lips.

Her eyes remain closed as her fingers continue their slow, soothing path through his hair, hand drifting up and down along his back, unhurried. She breathes him in, grounding herself in it, until she finally feels steady enough to open her eyes and meet his gaze. His eyes are hooded and dark and he’s breathing heavily, eyebrows furrowed. She experimentally rolls her hips against him and he moves his hands to grip her wrists on either side of her head. 

“No sex.”

“Is that a hard and fast rule for today?” She inquires, spreading her legs farther apart to make more room for him. 

“Regina,” he warns. 

Oh, so he wanted to do this the hard way? Fine.

“Hmph,” she says haughtily, twisting her arms to disentangle herself from him and pushing against his shoulders lightly so she has room to sit up. Rodrick complies, but pouts when she shrugs off his embrace. “Okay, then. What else can we do?”

“Barbie, I didn’t mean it that way. I-I want to, trust me. I really want to, but-”

“What’s this?” She asks, picking up a glossy box haphazardly stuck inside a dresser drawer. She shakes it and it’s heavier than she expects. 

“Oh, um, it’s this silly boardgame that I found at a thrift shop.”

She turns the box over in her hands. “I didn’t know you were into board games.”

He laughs quietly. “Yeah… I’m not.”

“Huh?”

“Uh, well, my mom thinks Greg and I don’t spend enough time together,” he says. “Like, actually hang out instead of just existing in the same house.”

She looks up at him. “Of course.”

“Right. So she invented this system called mom bucks. Any time Greg and I do something together - play a game, watch TV, whatever - we earn mom bucks.”

Her expression softens. “That’s actually kind of sweet.”

“Sure,” he says, smirking. “Until you realize one mom buck equals one real dollar.”

She freezes. “Wait. What?’

“Dead serious. You can save them up and trade them in for actual cash. So suddenly we’re doing math in our heads like, ‘Is hanging out with Greg for an hour worth five bucks?’”

She laughs. “That’s unhinged.”

“And the craziest part,” he continues casually, “is that I figured out her source.”

“…You what?”

“She was using Monopoly money,” he admits. “Straight up. Same colors, same print, everything. I recognized it immediately.”

Her mouth drops open. 

“So,” he goes on, “I went to a thrift shop and found the exact same Monopoly set. Same edition. Same bills.”

She stares at him. “Rodrick.”

“I didn’t do anything illegal,” he says quickly. “I just… supplement the economy.”

“You’re counterfeiting your mom’s currency.”

“I prefer ‘stimulated circulation,’” he says. “I keep the extra money in the box so it won't look suspicious. Every time Greg and I ‘bond,’ there’ll just happen to be a teeny bit more mom bucks involved.”

“That is actually evil.”

He shrugs. “Look, when someone tells you hanging out with your little brother can turn into real cash, you start thinking creatively.”

She shakes her head, smiling. “You are unreal.”

They grin at each other until Rodrick gets distracted and he leans in for a kiss. “Missed you,” he mumbles against her mouth.

“You,” gasp, “just saw me yesterday,” Regina replies, hands coming up on their own accord to cup his jaw.

“Yeah, that’s far too long to be going without you, in my opinion,” he says, mirroring her actions. His hands are huge and she feels like she’s this delicate being that he’s being extra careful with. Her mind flashes back to yesterday when she gave him the green light to let go and he really, really had his way with her.

She pulls away a bit. “Wanna play a game?”

Rodrick frowns. “What? Like Monopoly or something?”

“Something like that. Maybe a tad more interesting.”

His hands travel down her body, finding themselves at her waist again, and he uses this leverage to scoop her back onto his lap. “Okay, can we play it on the bed or do we have to move? I have bean bag chairs-”

“We can play here,” she assures him. “Do you have playing cards?”

He nods, making to move, presumably to fetch said cards, but she stops him. “It’s okay, we’ll need them later on.”

“Later? But then- Sorry what’s this game called?”

Regina crawls off him and plops herself by his pillows. She stretches until her (his) hoodie rides up her body and her belly ring twinkles in the dim sunlight. She taps her chin in mock thought. “Hmmm, we can call it ‘Just The Tip,’” she smiles devilishly. 

She almost wishes she had her camera with her so she could capture the look on Rodrick’s face. 

“R-regina,” he splutters.

“No sex, I know.”

“But-”

“That’s not sex, is it? Guys love to play this game, don’t you want to play?”

She spreads her legs enough for him to get a good view of her lace thong that she’s almost sure is soaked through.

“You play dirty,” he says, eyes glued to her crotch.

“And you play hard to get.”

When he doesn’t say anything in return, she continues. “I also know this other game you might be interested in if this one doesn’t tickle your fancy.”

His gaze flits to her face and she can tell she’s already won. 

She has to admit this is a lot of fun, though.

“So, fun fact: Mormons aren’t supposed to engage in premarital intercourse, but some genius found a loophole.”

Silence.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what it is?”

Rodrick bites his lip and turns towards the staircase leading up to his room. 

“It’s called soaking,” she says anyway.

He turns back at her. “What?”

“Soaking,” she repeats, right hand travelling down to skim the front of her underwear. “It’s basically glorified cockwarming, but you get a friend to like, jump on the bed to stimulate some friction.” She cups her heat between her middle finger and ring finger, pressing down so her pussy lips squish in between. 

This little tidbit, at least, throws him off. “A friend?”

“Yeah,” she sighs as she continues touching herself. “A third party. I mean, technically the couple wouldn’t be having sex, right? That would require some sort of- ah,” she moans lightly, “thrusting motion, y’know?”

Suddenly, he’s on her and her hand’s replaced with his and he’s stroking her just right, middle finger applying pressure to her hole, still obstructed by fabric.

“Baby,” he kisses her. “I want to play. I really do, but please, we need to be quiet, okay? There can’t be like,” he licks into her and their tongues tangle for a while. His other hand strokes her face. “…there can’t be things knocking over or strange noises. Apart from getting into trouble, I don’t want to risk traumatizing Greg.”

That’s pretty thoughtful coming from someone who seemed to be irritated to no end by his little brothers.

She nods. “We’ll be quiet, I promise,” she holds the hand already on her cheek and tilts her head enough to suck on his thumb salaciously. 

He squeezes his eyes shut. “Fuck, you’re so-” he interrupts himself, shoving off his sweats and boxers, cock springing upwards, hard and ready. 

Regina eyes his member with interest, before reaching out to stroke him gently. She’s met with a low groan. “So which game will it be?” 

“What,” he gasps.

“Which game? The first or the second?”

“We…” he struggles to form a sentence. Regina applauds him for the effort. If the roles were reversed she would be struggling to remember her own name. “We d-don’t have a third. And honestly,” he covers her hand with his and guides her in doing a twisting motion that has him cursing under his breath. “I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this.”

Regina’s breath catches in her throat. 

The sentiment is sweet. Not that guys haven’t showered her with statements of the same flavor before, but it always came across as this caveman-like possessiveness that she often doubted anyway because she was almost certain that they’d brag about bagging her to all their friends behind her back. 

In other words, it was all for show.

With Rodrick on the other hand…

“Same,” she breathes out, so softly that she doubts if she’s said it aloud at all. His eyes meet hers, though, and the fire behind them softens to an ember. 

He crawls over her and presses his forehead against hers. “Yeah?”

She never wants him to question that ever again. He’s the only one she wants to be with and he needs to know that.

Regina nods before planting a soft kiss on his lips - feather light, not really matching the titillating mood they’d set, but charged it its own little way. “M’all yours,” she says, fingers flitting over his cheeks. “Just yours.”

He smiles then, pressing his thumb against her lip, dragging it down slightly. “I’m yours too,” she can feel his eyelashes brush her cheek. “In case it wasn’t obvious,” he gazes at her affectionately.

She wraps her legs around his waist, their centers pressed together fully through the flimsy material of her thong. Rodrick responds by thrusting against her, slowly but deeply, warm cock sliding in between her slippery folds. He does this repeatedly, quickly humping and grinding against her through the half inch of fabric separating them. 

She hears his breathing directly against her ear, low growls and breathy moans escaping him through the exertion of pacing his movements, careful not to jostle her too hard lest the bed frame hit the wall. He feels so good, she bites her lip in an attempt to keep the noises escaping her at bay. He’s saying something she can barely understand, though she thinks she hears “Yeah, you fucking like that?” after she whimpers.

Regina tries to meet his thrusts but Rodrick moves one of his hands down to grab her hips, firmly holding her in place.“You’re so fucking good, so beautiful,” he growls, biting along her jaw. “I wanna fuck you forever, baby. God, I wish we could, so fucking bad.”

The head of his cock dips into her hole and she clenches, anticipating the stretch, but then the cloth barrier strains, and he pulls back. This happens again and again and again until she’s half driven to the brink of insanity. Her pussy’s so wet, juices dripping down her slit, squelching against her underwear that’s saturated with the stuff. Fed up, she reaches down and completely pulls the lavender fabric to one side, probably stretching it to ruin, but it’s so worth it when his tip finally catches on her clit.

She tilts her head back in ecstasy and gasps, completely willing to let him do whatever he wants to her. “Please.”

“Please what, gorgeous?” He whispers, teasing her by lining his cock up with her entrance and rubbing up and down. Her voice is in tatters when she responds.

“Put it in.”

“But,” he peppers kisses along her neck. “Isn’t this the point of the game?” 

Her back arches off the bed when she feels the promise of a delicious intrusion, but it’s stolen from her after what seems like barely an inch. “F-forget the game,” she pants.

“Oh? I don’t think I want to,” he grits, slapping his member against her cunt. “Not now that I’m winning.” 

She lets out a sob and immediately slaps a hand over her mouth. Her cries are muffled, but Rodrick swats away the impediment, kissing her roughly, hungrily, claiming her mouth with his own, his tongue deep inside her. She  wraps her legs around him tighter, pulling him down against her. He kisses her ravenously, one of his hands knotting in her hair, holding her head just how he wanted her. 

“Gotta stay quiet, baby,” he mumbles, before spearing into her without any warning, mouth descending back on hers, swallowing her alarmed gasp. 

Regina blacks out from pleasure. She really does. There’s a zing that runs up her spine signaling a powerful orgasm and then nothing. When she comes to, Rodrick’s fucking into her, low broken noises escaping him. He looks like he’s deep in concentration, focused solely on the task at hand, admiring the view between her legs.

She contracts rapidly, knees drawing in at the oversensitivity. In an unexpected display of strength, Rodrick moves himself harder and harder, savagely pulling every drop of pleasure from her body and pushing so far that he’s scrambling on the bed, attempting to get as deep into the blonde as possible.

God, she could feel him up in her gut, rearranging her innards to accommodate his thick girth. 

He shivers and goosebumps break all over his skin as he groans quietly into her neck. Regina feels warmth bloom inside her and she relaxes her legs just as soon as the boy on top of her collapses, whimpering. 

She lays there, breathing heavily and steadying herself by trying to focus on the posters taped on the ceiling of his room. They’re both dazed and fucked out, aftershocks of their orgasms still coursing through them. As they recover, she can feel Rodrick leaving a hickey on neck. She’s so far gone that she doesn’t even care; it can probably be hidden with the right concealer and hairdo anyway.

He starts to roll off of her, but she leans up and kisses him. He rolls anyway, keeping their mouths connected, moving one hand behind her head to hold onto her hair, pulling it back from her face for her. Regina pulls away just enough to peer down at him. He looks completely love-struck, hearts in his eyes as he gazes up at her, a lazy smile on his face.

“Do I win?” He asks, dopily.

What? Oh, right. She had almost forgotten her whole ruse for them fooling around in the first place. She buries her head in the crook of his neck, partially because she wants to breathe him in, and partially to hide the stupid grin taking over her face.

“Yeah. Sure, baby. You win.”